


A Sense of Expectation

by astudyinotters753



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Handcuffs, M/M, Pining Eggsy, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Strippers make them do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-06-06 11:22:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6751921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinotters753/pseuds/astudyinotters753
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Strippers,” Eggsy mumbles to himself, accepting his second drink of the night with a grateful smile.  “Why did it have to be strippers?”</p><p>Or, the one where Harry and Eggsy go to Kay's bachelor party and get themselves in quite the pickle.  Tags will be updated with each addition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

            It’s not the first time they’ve gone out together, not by a longshot.  After Harry’s return from Kentucky, it wasn’t uncommon to see Eggsy nearly glued to his side, both in and outside of Kingsman Headquarters.  Without fail, they can be found every Thursday night on opposite sides of a shared booth with a pint each.  Despite the amount of time Eggsy has spent around Harry, getting to know his nooks and crannies as intimately as he can with just being Harry’s friend, it still hasn’t prepared him for the absolute insanity Bors had planned for Kay’s bachelor party.  

            When Eggsy had agreed to tag along - and by extension, pressured Harry into joining the festivities - with the rest of the agents, he’d thought they’d go out for a drink or two.  Maybe even go dancing or clubbing, but _this_ was something else entirely, and as soon as Eggsy is herded into their first destination, he feels his mouth drop as his brain works frantically, trying to process everything that’s around him.  He backpedals a bit at the sheer amount of flesh on display and collides with Harry’s blessedly solid chest.  Warm hands raise and wrap instinctively around Eggsy’s waist to steady him, and Eggsy’s brain feels like it’s about to be scrambled at Harry’s touch.  

            “Are you all right, Eggsy?” Harry breathes into his ear, causing a shiver to run across the back of his neck.

            “F-fine,” Eggsy stutters in reply, jerking up and away from Harry.  He shoves his hands in his pocket and feels his cheeks heat slightly when he catches the knowing look Merlin shoots his way.  He shrugs as meekly as he can before making a beeline for the bar, ordering a martini - like the one Harry had taught him how to make - and downs it in a few gulps.  The bartender looks mildly concerned, but makes him another without a word.

            “Strippers,” Eggsy mumbles to himself, accepting his second drink of the night with a grateful smile.  “Why did it have to be strippers?” he asks aloud before turning to find where Kay and the rest had gone.  Spotting them at a very large round table, Eggsy weaves his way through the crowd, and takes the last open seat when Bors gestures to it with a wink.

            “Saved you the best seat in the house,” he says with a waggle of his eyebrows.

            Eggsy quirks a single eyebrow in response, and takes a sip from his martini.  “What are ya on about, bruv?” He asks, his voice low.

            Bors chuckles and nods pointedly once in Harry’s direction before waving his hand at one of the girls carrying around a tray of shots, hoping to catch her attention.  When she saunters over, Bors hands over a few, crisply folded bills and takes the whole tray from her.  With a wink, he sets a chocolate brown shot topped with a small mountain of whipped cream in front of Eggsy.  “Have at it,” he says, passing more shots around.  

            Eggsy just looks, cluelessly, back and forth from the intimidatingly tiny glass of alcohol to Bors, confusion wrinkling his face.  “I already have a drink,” he says evenly.

            “Well, have another,” Bors replies, tossing back a shot of emerald liqueur with a slight grimace.  “You’ll like it, I promise.”

            Eggsy stares at the drink for a moment, before reaching for it, only to have his hands slapped away by a smirking Bors.  “I thought you wanted me to have that, yeah?” he asks.

            Bors nods and reaches over to hold Eggsy’s hands behind his back.  “Like this,” he whispers into the younger man’s ear.  “You wrap your lips around the shot glass and toss it back.  No hands allowed.”

            With a shrug, Eggsy leans forward, does his best to wrap his lips cleanly around the shot glass, and tilts his head back.  The richness of coffee bursts across his tongue, and something nutty burns down his throat as he tries to swallow everything in one go, doing his best not to splutter alcohol and whipped cream across the table.  

            When he’s done, he leans forward and deposits the empty glass onto the table, and feels his cheeks flush as he catches Harry staring at him.  “Well done,” Bors says, merrily clapping Eggsy’s shoulder before reaching for another of the darkly-colored glasses.  

            “Thanks,” Eggsy murmurs, licking the last of the sweetness off his lips.  Across the table, he watches as Harry’s expression sours a touch, his eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly.  Harry turns to grab Merlin’s attention, and they seem to share a few words between them before Merlin is shooting a quizzical look his way.  Although he can’t see Merlin’s face when he turns away, Eggsy can almost see him roll his eyes.

            “Eggsy,” Harry says, just loud enough to catch his attention.  He crooks his finger, beckoning him to lean across the table.  

            “Yeah, Harry?” Eggsy says, following Harry’s cue.

            “You have a bit of cream on your lip,” Harry explains, reaching out to swipe at the corner of Eggsy’s mouth, drawing a smear of white away on the pad of his thumb.  

            Eggsy just watches, barely able to swallow around the lump in his throat that forms as he watches Harry absentmindedly suck the sweetness off  his thumb.  His cheeks blaze as Bors all but hauls him back into his seat, a very ungentlemanly squeak falling from between his parted lips.

            “So, how was your first blowjob?” Bors asks, sliding sideways into his own seat.  The smile that cuts across his face is so wide Eggsy can almost count all of his teeth.  

            “My wot?” Eggsy asks incredulously, leaning forward in his chair.  “That’s a bit inappropriate, isn’t it, bruv?”

            Bors snickers, reaches forward, and grabs Eggsy’s empty shot glass.  “I’m asking about the drink,” he replies.  “No need to get your knickers in a twist, Eggsy.”

            Eggsy snaps his mouth shut, crosses his arms, and slumps back into his chair.  He tries to drown out Bors’s laughter as he recounts the entire debacle to a swaying Kay.  After a few moments, he starts to relax as he has his first real look around the place.  

            The round table Bors had no doubt chosen on Kay’s behalf, was situated just off to the side of the main stage, a smaller table of younger, rowdier men in front of them.  Both men and women - in various states of dress - were wandering around the room.  Some, like the girl Bors had paid before, were carrying trays filled to the brim with shots.  Others, like the girl in not much more than a lace-trimmed apron serving the table in front of them, carried small trays and took specific drink orders.  

            The overhead lights aren’t as dark as Eggsy’s used to from the time he’s spent in clubs with Roxy, and he can comfortably map out three easy escape routes and two difficult ones in case everything goes tits up and he needs to make a run for it.  Not that he’s expecting anything to go wrong, but he _knows_ how much Bors likes lighting things on fire.  He also knows that Kay is usually enamoured by explosions of any shape and size.  Fuck, maybe he should be paying attention to how much each of them is drinking…

            Eggsy is snapped from his thoughts when one of the half-dressed strippers seats himself in Eggsy’s lap, hands coming up to splay across his jawbone.  “There you are, sugar,” the man purrs, winking saucily at him.  “You seemed a little lost in your head, and I just knew you could use a little help coming back to your _senses_ ,” he finishes, punctuating his words by guiding Eggsy’s hands to rest in the small of his back.  The man rocks his hips, and Eggsy jerks his hands away, as if he’s been burned.

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” Eggsy rushes, leaning as far back into the chair as he could.  “Was just… thinking.”

            The man frowns at him. “Oh, honey,” he says, leaning back against Eggsy’s knees.  “You’ve got someone special in your life, don’t you?”

            Eggsy feels his mouth open and shut, like a gaping fish, but try as he might, no words seem to pass from his brain to his lips.  Finally, he just snaps his jaw shut, and looks guiltily over the man’s shoulder to stare at the back of Harry’s head.  

            Following Eggsy’s line of vision, the man twists and eyes Harry up and down.  “Oh, _honey_ ,” he repeats, snapping back to lock his black-lined eyes with Eggsy’s.  “He’s gorgeous.  How long have you two been together?”

            Eggsy jerks at that, nearly unseating the man perched on his lap.  “We…” he starts, feeling his tongue tripping over the words he hates that he has to say.  “We ain’t…”

            Understanding dawns on the man and he raises a finger to press against Eggsy’s plush lips.  “Say no more, sugar,” he murmurs, raising his other hand to squeeze gently at Eggsy’s shoulder.  “One of these days, I bet he’ll come around.  In the meantime, do you want me to grab someone more aligned with your tastes to dance for you?  My treat,”

            Eggsy doesn’t hesitate to shake his head.  “Nah,” he says, doing his best to smile at the man on his lap.  “I’m sure some of my other mates wouldn’t mind taking that dance for me.  Maybe for Kay, since it’s his stag-do, after all…” he trails off.

            The man just leans forward and presses a quick kiss to the corner of Eggsy’s jaw.  “Okay, honey,” he purrs softly, getting one last good feel of Eggsy’s chest and thighs before he pulls off of his lap.  “If you change your mind, just wave me down.  I’d be more than _happy_ to see to any needs you have.”

            As soon as the man is out of his sight, Eggsy breathes a sigh of relief and slumps in his chair.  Bors taps his shoulder and tells him that most of the Kingsmen are headed to the bar for a drink, and asks him to hold the table for them.  Eggsy nods and focuses his gaze on the woodgrain of the table, convincing himself that it’s far more interesting and worth his consideration than the male stripper’s pity.  

            When he finally raises his gaze again, he catches Harry’s frustrated gaze and feels his breath catch in his throat.  “Harry, I…” he starts as he tries to lean forward in his chair, only to find that he’s been rendered immobile.  “Harry?” he tries again, struggling against the metal biting into the tender flesh of his wrists as he tries to pull them from where he’s been handcuffed to the chair.  

            “You’re stuck too?” Harry asks, his head tilting ever-so-slightly to the side.  When Eggsy’s answering nod comes, Harry just frowns.  “Bollocks.  I was so hoping you could help me out.  It seems I’ve been tied to my chair as well.”

            Eggsy struggles once more in his chair, hissing as his wrists rub uncomfortably against the slowly-warming metal.  “I don’t think I can get out,” he admits, eyes flickering back and forth to each of the exit points he’d mapped out earlier.

            Before him, Harry seems to sink, defeated, back into his chair.  It breaks something in Eggsy, to see Harry look so hopeless.  He had promised himself, after Harry returned from Kentucky; had returned from nearly dying in the hot sun after massacring an entire church congregation, that he would never let Harry look as hopeless as he’d seen him look in the reflection of Richmond Valentine’s glasses.  And now, here they were nearly a year later, tied to their chairs in the poshest strip club Eggsy’s ever been in, and he’s face to face with the evidence that he’s _failed_ Harry.

            “Fuck!” he hisses, slumping in his own chair.  “What do we do now, Harry?” Eggsy asks.

            Across from him, Harry raises a single eyebrow and watches Eggsy for a moment.  “We wait,” he says simply.  “And we hope that the rest of our group makes a hasty return.”


	2. Chapter 2

The rest of their group does not make a hasty return.  Twenty minutes pass, and the only people who make their way over to their table are carrying drinks for the table in front of them. 

Eventually, it seems as if someone finally sees Eggsy’s distress as he pulls repeatedly against the handcuffs, rocking in his chair.  Air swooshes behind him, as if someone has passed behind his chair, and then, there are a few, smooth fingertips sliding across the back of Eggsy’s clammy neck.  “I heard there was a bachelor’s party here tonight,” a man’s voice coos, his breath puffing hot against the shell of Eggsy’s ear.  “That wouldn’t happen to be you, now, would it?”

“Nah,” Eggsy bites out, trying not to jerk away from the man’s touch.  “I ain’t the bachelor.”

“Oh?” the man behind him breathes, sliding both of his hands down the front of Eggsy’s chest, fingers digging in against the crisp fabric of his button down.  “In that case, I guess you and your  _ friend _ are in for a little treat.”

Eggsy’s brows furrow as he pushes as close to the back of the chair as he can.  “Whaddya on about?” he asks, doing his best not to squirm too much.  “I’m not here looking for no treats, and neither is Harry.  I just wanna be let go.”

The man chuckles and turns into Eggsy’s line of view, reaching up a hand to ruffle his hair.  “Sit tight, hot stuff,” the man says, swaying his hips tantalizingly from side to side.  “We got paid to give you and  _ Harry _ a bit of a dance.  So try and enjoy it, I know I will.” 

Eggsy sucks in a deep breath as the man in front of him really starts to move.  His body falls into patterns that Eggsy’s seen a hundred times and done a handful of times himself.  The more the music plays, the more frustrated the dancer becomes.  Finally, with a huff of annoyance, he sits himself in Eggsy’s lap and grinds down against the half-hard erection swelling in Eggsy’s trousers. 

“The friends who paid for this dance said you were interested in some male company,” he murmurs, just loud enough for Eggsy to hear him.  “But you’re not getting  _ excited _ .  Should I call someone else over?”

Frantically, Eggsy shakes his head and tries to catch the dancer’s eye.  “Queer as a three pound note, guv,” he replies.  “I’m just used to being teased, ya know?  Got pretty good at keeping it in my pants.”

At his reply, the dancer chuckles and rocks against him once more before pulling away to go back into his routine.  As the song ends, he slips behind Eggsy once more, and teases his fingers over the top button on his placket.  “I talked to Jake after he visited you,” he murmurs, slipping the first button free.  “He said you was pining after your older gentleman friend over there.  Is that true?” 

A second button pops free, and as Eggsy nods minutely, the dancer slides his hands down in Eggsy’s shirt, brushing over his collarbones and down over his pectorals. 

“How long?” he asks, lightly scraping his nails over Eggsy’s skin as he pulls his hands back.  “We need to know what we’re working with.”

“Since the day I met ‘im,” Eggsy replies, squeezing his eyes shut.  “And what do you mean you need to know what you’re working with?  Who’s ‘we’?”

The dancer just places a finger over Eggsy’s lips as he quietly shushes him.  “Open your eyes, honey,” he says.  “I think that will answer all your questions.”

Hesitantly, Eggsy opens his eyes and stares, gobsmacked at the scene unfolding in front of him.  Just like him, Harry is still bound to his chair and his shirt is halfway to being undone.  Unlike him, Harry’s mouth has dropped open, his gaze flickering from one of the three men dancing around them to the next.  The flush that glazes his cheeks has spread down the column of his neck to splotch beautifully across the top of his chest.  His tongue darts out to moisten his open lips, slightly plush lips, and Eggsy all but jerks out of his chair as Harry’s warm brown eyes catch his own.  Harry looks irrevocably  _ wrecked _ , and Eggsy finds himself nearly whimpering at his mercy. 

“There we go,” Eggsy’s dancer murmurs, running his hands back down his shirt.  “He’s quite a sight for sore eyes, hmmm?

Eggsy reply manifests in a weak whimper and a fervored head nod.

“My name is Dylan,” the dancer whispers into his ear.  “So you know who to send a thank-you to after tonight is over.”

“Wha-?” is all that Eggsy is able to muster before his head is being tilted back and the dancer – Dylan – is kissing him as if his life depends on it. 

When Dylan pulls away a few, heated moments later, Eggsy is stunned at the sheer intensity and ferocity burning behind Harry’s gaze.  It makes his cheeks heat, part in shame, part in arousal as he imagines Harry turning the energy behind in his gaze into action.  It’s too easy to pretend that Dylan’s hands, still stroking roughly over his chest, are Harry’s, that it’s Harry’s mouth nipping lightly along the underside of his jaw, that it’s Harry’s erection pressing down, unabashedly hard, against his own, feeble, twitching cock. 

The higher-order functioning in his brain finally fizzles out when Dylan buries his head in the crook of Eggsy’s neck and sinks his teeth in hard – not enough to break the skin, but definitely enough to pull a half-swallowed groan at the sting. 

“Pay attention to him,” Dylan says, softly, punctuating his words with a lick over the place where he’d bitten.  “He’s so worked up because he’s watching you.”

Eggsy gasps as one of the other dancers reaches up to pluck the tortoise-shell glasses off of the bridge of Harry’s nose, folding them while Harry blinks owlishly, setting them aside in the middle of the table.  The dancer’s hands work their way through Harry’s hair, artfully tousling is as he grinds down against Harry’s erection. 

Harry’s white teeth sink into his own lips as he catches Eggsy’s gaze, fixated once more on him, his own eyes looking dark and blown out and a touch lost to the pleasure coursing through his body. 

“Please,” Eggsy huffs, bucking up against the handcuffs once more.  “You gotta let me out.  I need-“

The rest of Eggsy’s sentence is swallowed thickly as his brain catches up to his mouth.

“Yeah, honey?” Dylan asks, hands slipping down to pull slightly on the chain between the cuffs.  “What do you need?”

“Nothin’,” he mutters, biting his own tongue as he shakes his head.  “I don’t need nothin’.”

“Are you sure?” Dylan prods, pulling the chain even tighter.  “Because you look like you might just break the chair and strangle me if I don’t let you out.”

Frowning, Eggsy doesn’t let himself linger on the fact that Dylan was far closer to the point than he should be.  “I-“ he starts weakly.  “I just-“

Dylan smiles and winks knowingly at him.  “Say no more,” he says, letting the chain fall loose from his fingers.  “I think I know just what I’m going to do with you.”

“And what’s that?” Eggsy croaks, stiffening as Dylan’s fingers wiggle between the hot, slightly raw skin of his wrist and the warm metal of the cuffs.

“I’m gonna undo these dreadful handcuffs so that you can go help your friend out,” Dylan replies, a tiny key turning in the lock with a quiet  _ snick _ .

As soon as his wrists are free, Eggsy hauls himself up on unsteady legs and crosses the distance separating him from Harry with uneven, wobbly steps.  His hands fly to the handcuffs, fingers barely able to scrape across the edges before they’re slapped away. 

“Oh no, honey,” Dylan says, coming up to press his body against Eggsy’s back.  “I said you could help him, not set him free.”

Eggsy turns to shoot the dancer a puzzled look.  “What’re ya playing at?” he growls, low enough that only Dylan hears him.

“Like I said before,” Dylan replies, “I’m doing you a favor.”

“Oh really?” Eggsy challenges, crooking up an eyebrow. 

Dylan rolls his eyes and tightens his grip on Eggsy’s hips.  “I definitely am,” he breaths into Eggsy’s ear, the curl of his smile brushing against Eggsy’s flushed skin.  “You are going to dance for your friend, like we danced for you.” 

He pauses for a moment, to put pressure on one side of Eggsy’s hips, then the other, until he gets the idea and starts to sway from side to side.  “And then, if things go the way they should, your  _ friend _ will take you home and bend you over the arm of his couch because he can’t wait to get you to the bedroom before he fucks you.”

With a huff of hot air, Eggsy waves Dylan off and goes to stand in front of Harry.  “I’m sorry about this,” he bites out, hands reaching out to steady himself on Harry’s broad, sturdy shoulders.  “They said if I don’t dance, you don’t get out.”

Harry swallows thickly, as if around a lump in his throat, and nods slightly.  “It’s quite all right,” he murmurs, his voice uneven and breathy.  “I understand, my dear boy.”

“Any requests?” Eggsy jokes, clenching his hands into the fabric of Harry’s shirt, as if it’s a lifeline, the only thing preventing him from drowning in the warm depths of Harry’s eyes.

“No,” Harry breathes, tensing under Eggsy’s touch.  “Whatever makes you most comfortable.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Eggsy begins to swivel his hips in small circles, alternating sides as he goes.  It takes a few long, terribly embarrassing moments for his body to remember the long-forgotten movements.  It’s only when he forces himself to ignore everything around him, closing his eyes with a shaky puff of air, that Eggsy really lets himself go. 

With his eyes closed, Eggsy can allow himself to pretend, to exist in a reality where Harry had asked him to dance, where Harry actually wanted his attention, where Harry wasn’t currently tied down to the chair in front of him.  Halfway through his song, he feels a pair of hands settle once more on his hips, tugging him backwards ever-so-slightly, so that he’s pressed against whomever is dancing behind him. 

Going with it, Eggsy raises his own hands and loops them back around the other man’s neck.  His hands slide up his chest, dragging his shirt from where it’s tucked into his pants.  In Eggsy’s imagination, he pretends it’s Harry he’s dancing with, that it’s Harry’s hands that are pulling him even closer, as if he can’t quite get enough of him, that it’s Harry’s erection digging into the plush swell of his arse.  Eggsy lets out a quiet, breathy moan at the image that dances tantalizingly behind his fluttering eyelids. 

Someone whistles and breaks his trance, causing Eggsy to stumble gracelessly into Harry’s lap, his hands coming up to grapple for balance at his shoulders.  Widely, he blinks up at Harry, his mouth falling open in surprise as his twitching erection lines up perfectly with Harry’s own hardness. 

“Oh,” Eggsy breathes, freezing up in weak attempt to not squirm in Harry’s lap. 

Harry looks particularly tense and strained, a vein bulging out against the side of his temples, his lips bitten red and nearly raw.

“Enjoying yourself, ‘Arry?” Eggsy asks cheekily, trying to lighten the mood.  But Harry doesn’t laugh, the corners of his mouth turning down. 

“Not as much as I could be,” Harry growls, his voice dangerously low and hoarse. 

Eggsy’s smile fades just as quickly, and he scrambles up from Harry’s lap, muttering a nearly silent “sorry,” as he goes.  Dylan catches him before he’s able to take more than a couple steps, hands reaching to push Eggsy back towards Harry. 

“You’re not done yet!” he says.  “At least finish the song.”

Sighing heavily, Eggsy turns to chance a look at Harry to gauge his reaction.

Harry’s answering nod isn’t large or pronounced, but it’s consent enough for Eggsy who steps back into his space with baited breath and picks up where he left off before his fall.

Eggsy decides, as the bass drops in the song he’s dancing to, that as long as he has this opportunity, he might as well make the most of it.  He swivels his hips as he turns, giving Harry a good glimpse of his arse as he bends down to roll up.  By now, he’s drawn the attention of the table of young men in front of them, and with a blush that he’s sure splotches unattractively across his collarbones, he closes his eyes again and runs his own hands down his chest and thighs. 

In his head, he’s dancing just for Harry again, the older man seated in one of the wingback chairs on either side of the couch in his living room.  He’s enjoying a glass of his favorite brandy as he watches, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up.  Eggsy knows he’s just biding his time; the better he dances for Harry, the less Harry will make him wait before he takes him to bed. 

They’ve done this a handful of times in the privacy of Eggsy’s imagination, and each time, Harry fucks him faster, harder, and leaves fingertip bruises in an arc across his hipbones to match the purple-red-maroon love bites that peek above the collar of his suit.  Harry always cries out Eggsy’s name when he comes, and the thought of Harry filling him up, marking him up on the inside too, is enough to do Eggsy in. 

When the song sounds like it’s coming to an end, Eggsy opens his eyes and turns back to look at Harry once more.  His eyes are still dark, and his shoulders are tight with tension.  Harry looks like he’s about ready to snap, like his lovely, large hands are dying to reach out and strangle the breath from Eggsy’s neck.

Out of the corner of his eye, Eggsy catches Dylan smirking at him as he inches his way towards Harry.  Feeling bold, Eggsy sends a quick prayer to every diety he knows before he gives in to the temptation.  He saunters in close, straddles Harry’s lap once more, and sits there for a short moment before he grinds down indecently, a throaty moan tumbling from between parted lips as pleasure sparks hotly in his belly.

Harry snaps, and with a growl, breaks the chain between the handcuffs.  His hands shoot up to clutch at his hips, pulling him down firmly as his hips hitch up.  Eggsy’s surprised gasp does nothing to derail him, as his hands slide around to grope at the globes of Eggsy’s arse. 

Eggsy groans into Harry’s ear as Harry mouths tiny bites against the side of his jaw.  Harry’s hips are still canting up in a gorgeous rhythm, and his hands feel so perfectly right when they weasel into the back pockets of his denims.  Around them, Eggsy can hear the workers and other customers sitting close to them hooting and hollering as Eggsy lets himself be ravished in Harry’s lap. 

When Harry pulls away after sucking a mark below his earlobe, Eggsy pants and lets his forehead fall forward to rest against Harry’s.  “Harry,” he breathes out raggedly.  “ _ Harry _ .”

With a controlled breath, Harry goes still beneath him.  “Yes, my darling boy?” he asks, and  _ oh _ , his voice sounds absolutely, sinfully wrecked. 

“I didn’t think gentlemen necked with their coworkers at a stag-do in front of hundreds of people,” Eggsy blurts, cringing as the words leave his mouth.

Harry, thankfully, chuckles low in his throat and leans in to press a gentle, chaste kiss against one of the marks on Eggsy’s neck.  “They don’t, usually,” he replies, squeezing at Eggsy’s waist. 

Eggsy burrows his face further into the junction between Harry’s neck and shoulder when he feels his face burn at Harry’s words.  “But they do sometimes?” he murmurs against Harry’s skin.

“Sometimes,” Harry replies, rubbing small circles into the small of Eggsy’s back.  “Although, I’m afraid that I don’t feel very much like a gentleman tonight if the things I want to do to you are anything to go by.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check back next Thursday for the third and final chapter! (At least, I think it'll be the final one!!)


	3. Chapter 3

“Well,” Eggsy murmurs, turning to press another kiss against Harry’s neck.  “Gentleman or not, I ain’t too keen on being arrested for indecent exposure.”

Harry chuckles and drops a kiss on top of Eggsy’s head.  “I agree with you there, darling,” he says, splaying a hand possessively across the swell of Eggsy’s lower back.  “Fortunately, I know of somewhere close that we can go.  If you’re amenable, that is.”

“Yes, Harry,” Eggsy agrees, pulling away to drag Harry towards the door.  “Let’s get outta ‘ere.”

“Just a moment,” Harry says, tugging Eggsy back towards the bar.  “There’s some unfinished business we need to attend to, first.”

“If that unfinished business is a drink, I know you’ve got a good bottle of brandy at home,” Eggsy says, following along reluctantly.  “Better than they’ve got here.”

Harry shakes his head briefly before nodding in the direction of Kay and Bors, “I merely thought that we should inform our companions about our departure so they aren’t waiting on us all night.”

A pleased shiver dances down Eggsy’s spine as the idea of spending the entire night with Harry unfolds in his mind.  “Oh,” he breathes, the word ghosting across his lips.  “All right, Harry.”

The outside air is crisp and cool against Eggsy’s flushed skin.  He shivers as Harry escorts him to the curb, one of his elegant, deadly hands outstretched to hail a cab.  Moments later, a scuffed, black taxi pulls over for them, and Eggsy quickly finds himself being manhandled into the back seat.  Harry climbs in quickly after him and rattles off an address that seems vaguely familiar, but Eggsy’s too distracted by Harry’s hand settling comfortably over his thigh.

With each swipe of Harry’s thumb along the inseam of his denims, Eggsy has to fight the urge to wiggle and spread his legs wider so that Harry has access to whatever part of him that he wants.

Harry’s hands are a beautiful contradiction.  Gun calloused palms paired with soft, satin-smooth wrists.  Eggsy knows that people have both lived and died by Harry’s hands, and the knowledge that Harry could kill him in an instant if he wanted just makes his arousal burn brighter in the pit of his belly.

“I’ve barely touched you and you’re already so responsive,” Harry says, his words bringing Eggsy out of his thoughts.  “I must admit, it’s very difficult to keep myself from ravishing you right now in the backseat.”

Eggsy sucks in a shallow breath and balls his hands into fists at his sides.  “Harry,” he starts, “you can’t say things like that.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Harry asks, stroking his thumb even higher.  “After all, it’s the truth.  I think you’d look magnificent laid out right here, just for me.”

“ _Harry_ ,” Eggsy whines, trying to arch further into Harry’s touch.

Harry chuckles and squeezes the top of Eggsy’s thigh.  “It’s so very tempting, darling,” he says, brushing the tips of his fingers over Eggsy’s erection.  “But then I think of how beautiful you’re going to look spread out on my bed, and I find that I have the patience to wait just a little bit longer.”

“I’m not sure I can wait too much longer,” Eggsy croaks out, slumping in his seat as Harry’s hand settles on his knee.  “I need you.”

“We’re almost there, darling,” Harry murmurs, pressing a kiss just underneath Eggsy’s ear.  “Just a few more moments, and then I can have you.”

True to Harry’s word, the taxi pulls up in front of a house and idles.  Harry wordlessly slides the driver a few, neatly folded notes, and swiftly exits the cab.  Eggsy scrambles out behind him and stares in awe at the front door.

“You brought us ‘ere?” he asks, shoving his hands into his pockets as Harry unlocks the door and walks through the threshold.  “I thought you said you knew somewhere close.”

“This is relatively close, given the options I had,” Harry replies, turning to look at where Eggsy has frozen to the pavement.  “Are you going to come inside, darling?  It’s starting to get cold.”

With a huff, Eggsy trudges through the open door, toes off his shoes on the small rug, and fixes his gaze on the small scuffed patch of hardwood by Harry’s feet.  “I’m sure the club we was at had a back room we could have rented,” he says, his voice soft.

Hesitantly, Harry steps forward and raises a hand to rest on Eggsy’s shoulder.  “Oh, Eggsy,” he murmurs, waiting until Eggsy looks up at him before continuing.  “It appears we’re on different pages.  Will you join me in the sitting room for a drink so we can talk about it?”

Eggsy nods and follows as Harry leads him into the sitting room, plunking down into a corner of Harry’s leather couch.  A moment later, a glass of cool water is pressed into his hand.  He drinks half of it absentmindedly before cradling it carefully in his hands.  “So,” he says simply.  “You wanted to talk?”

Harry nods and sits in the plush armchair opposite of the couch, taking a moment to set his own glass of water aside.  “Eggsy, I must ask,” he begins, pausing to consider his words for a moment.  “Did you intend for tonight to be a one time occurrence?”

“I dunno…” Eggsy starts, frowning as he avoids Harry’s eyes.  “I figured I’d go off of whatever you wanted, Haz.”

“Did you think that I intended for this to be a once only event, darling?” Harry asks, his voice soft.

Across from him, Eggsy only shrugs and sips noncommittally at his water.

A moment later, the water glass is plucked from his hand, and Harry is there, kneeling in front of him, with his hands raising up to cup Eggsy’s cheek.  “Oh, my dear boy,” Harry breathes.  “My darling Eggsy, there could be nothing that is further from the truth.”

“Wot?” Eggsy blurts, his eyebrows furrowing.

“I’ve wanted you for such a long time, but it felt rather uncouth to bring it up,” Harry says.  “After all, it’s no secret that I’m older than your father.  I never thought that you’d even consider looking my way.”

Eggsy gapes at him for a long moment before tilting his chin down.  “I thought that when you brought me here, that you was gonna tell me that you’d made a mistake,” he whispers.  “That you didn’t really want me.”

Harry smiles and pulls back away just enough to press a kiss to Eggsy’s forehead.  “Oh, Eggsy,” he breathes.  “I nearly lost myself when you danced for me tonight.”

“You did?” Eggsy asks.

“I was so captivated by every move you made,” Harry replies.  “In fact, when I finally was able to touch you, I could think about nothing more than the exquisite picture you’d make all spread out in my bed.”

“So you still want me?” Eggsy asks, nervously meeting Harry’s eyes.

“Oh, darling, there’s nothing I want more,” Harry answers truthfully, brushing his thumb in an arc over Eggsy’s cheekbone.  “Will you permit me to have you?”

Eggsy chuckles softly under his breath and leans forward to press his forehead against Harry’s.  “I think somethin’ can be arranged, ‘Arry,” he replies.

Harry’s answering smile is brief and bright, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mirth.  “Then perhaps,” he says, pulling away, his hand reaching to wrap around Eggsy’s, “we should go somewhere a touch more _comfortable_.”

Eggsy smiles, rolls his eyes, and drags Harry up the stairs.  He pauses and looks down the hallway, feeling foolish when he has to stop.  Although he’s spent quite a few nights crashing at Harry’s, he’s never seen the inside of Harry’s bedroom and  has no idea which door leads into Harry’s bedroom.  

“First door on the left,” Harry supplies, stepping around Eggsy to take the lead.  Following close behind, Eggsy slips into Harry’s bedroom and finds himself pinned against the door not long after it’s closed.

Harry’s lips quickly find his own, and Eggsy can’t help the disappointed whine that tumbles high and needy from his throat when Harry pulls away and pushes him towards the bed.  “Get comfortable, darling,” Harry orders, slipping through the door to his closet.  “I’ll be back to join you in a moment.”

Quickly, Eggsy starts shucking his clothes.  He trips over his socks as he tries to step out of his trousers and manages to get stuck in his button-up after forgetting to undo the top button.  Eventually, he makes it down to his pants, and spends a few seconds folding his clothes messily before sprawling out on the bed to wait for Harry to come back.

Harry’s bed is soft under Eggsy’s chest, and he feels the tension from earlier bleed out from his shoulders as he lies there.  His eyes flutter closed, and for a long, luxurious moment, he allows himself to focus on how good he feels sprawled out mostly naked in Harry’s bed.  

He’s not quite sure how much time passes between the moment he lays down, and the moment the bed dips beside him and a warm hand nudges his shoulder.  “Dozing off on me now?” Harry murmurs, rubbing his thumb in small, sweeping arcs across Eggsy’s shoulder blade.

“Nah,” Eggsy replies, smiling up at Harry.  “It just feels good, you know?  Here, I’ve dreamed about being here like this with you for ages now, and it already feels so much bett’r than I thought it would.”

Harry’s answering smile is soft and small, and seeing it makes Eggsy’s insides bloom with happines.  “I believe I am having similar sentiments,” he admits, trailing his hand down Eggsy’s spine.  “I knew you would be beautiful like this, but in all the hours I’ve spent imagining this moment, you’ve never quite been this alluring, this incandescent.”

“Harry,” Eggsy breathes, arching back into his touch.  “Shut up.”

Harry chuckles and leans over to press a kiss to the middle of Eggsy’s spine.  “I think if you want me to be quiet,” he says into the warm skin under his lips, “then you’re going to have to find something else for me to do with my mouth.”

Beneath Harry, Eggsy shifts and turns over.  “Y’know, if you wanted to suck me off, all you had to do was keep kissin’ me against your door.”

“I’ll have to remember that for next time,” Harry says, pausing every few words to drop a smattering of kisses up Eggsy’s chest.  Then, he allows himself a very short moment to really take in the sight of Eggsy - smiling and happy and relaxed and backlit by the lamp on the side table - before leaning in and kissing him deep and filthy.

Eggsy breaks the kiss when the need to breathe becomes too great with a bitten off groan that tickles the bend in Harry’s neck.  “Fuck,” he hisses, digging his fingertips into Harry’s shoulders in a futile attempt to pull the other man closer.  “Come on, Haz, I need you.  Don’t make me wait any longer.”

Harry manages to steal one more quick kiss before pulling away to ghost his hands up Eggsy’s thighs.  “How do you want to do this, darling?” he asks, slipping the tips of his thumbs under the waistband of Eggsy’s underwear.

“Well,” Eggsy starts, wiggling his hips under Harry’s touch, “I was hoping that you’d prep me good and fuck me ‘ard.  But, if you want to do it the other way instead, that’d be fine, too.”

Harry watches, gobsmacked, as Eggsy - presumably frustrated since Harry knows he hasn’t moved in at least a minute - peels off his shorts and throws them god knows where.  Harry doesn’t pay attention to it, because he doesn’t care.  All he cares about in this moment is the even goldenness of Eggsy’s skin, the hypnotizing way his erection bobs and sways, a perfect pearl of precome glistening on the crown, and the smug grin that stretches Eggsy’s lips when he registers that Harry’s _staring_.  

Harry feels the apples of his cheeks heat up, but bends to press a kiss to the inside of Eggsy’s thigh anyway.  “While it is very tempting to ask you to be inside of me,” he murmurs, nipping at the skin, “you make a very convincing argument for why tonight I should take you instead.”

Eggsy’s breath stutters in his chest as Harry’s hands wrap around his calves and guide his legs further apart as he sucks a mark into his thigh.  “Harry,” he hisses, his hands balling into fists at his sides, “I swear, if you don’t touch me, I’m gonna die.”

“So impatient,” Harry says, releasing Eggsy’s leg to fumble in the covers for the bottle of lube he brought from the bathroom.  “One of these days I’m going to tie you to the bedposts and explore you for a very long time.”

“Next time,” Eggsy offers, reaching down to wrap a hand around his aching erection.  He’s only able to get a few, good strokes in before Harry is giving him a _look_ , and Eggsy drops his hands to twist uncertainly into the sheets by his sides.

“Breathe for me, darling,” Harry murmurs, leaning in to press a gentle kiss at the crease of Eggsy’s thigh.

Eggsy does as he’s told, and gulps in a breath of air as deep as it’ll go.  He exhales in a rush, squeezing his eyes shut as cold, sticky-slick fingers brush against his perineum.     Another few breaths, and Harry slides one of his gloriously thick fingers inside of him, and Eggsy’s brain starts to check out.

“Fucking hell!” he gasps, his legs twitching up towards his chest as he grinds his hips down, his body trying to suck Harry’s finger further inside.

“Look how beautiful you are,” Harry says into Eggsy’s skin, twisting his finger as he speaks.  “So breathtakingly gorgeous.  And all for me.  Can you take another one, Eggsy?  Can you take more for me?”

Enthusiastically, Eggsy nods, his exhale twisting into a groan as Harry presses a second finger inside him, twisting so that his fingertips are resting at the base of Eggsy’s prostate.  Judging by the smug look Harry is shooting him, Eggsy is pretty sure that Harry knows what he’s doing.

“Stop teasing, yeah?” Eggsy asks, clenching enticingly around Harry’s fingers.  “I’m pretty sure I’m not gonna last tha’ long, and I wanna come with your cock inside me, not your fingers.”

Grunting in agreement, Harry gets to work and finishes stretching Eggsy out as quickly as he can, checking every now and then to make sure his lover is slicked and relaxed enough.  It simultaneously feels like too soon and not soon enough when Harry pulls his shaking fingers from Eggsy’s arse to slip a condom over his weeping erection.  He slicks the leftover lube coating his hands onto his cock, and then, he’s pressing himself back against Eggsy, the head of his cock nudging against where Eggsy is wet and open.

“Are you sure you want this, darling?” Harry asks, his voice breathy and slightly hoarse.  “Because once I have you, I’m afraid I’ll ruin you.”

Eggsy takes a moment to balk at Harry, his eyebrows furrowing, before he sits up, pushes Harry back on the bed into a sitting position, and straddles his lap.  “I want you to listen to me carefully, ‘cause I ain’t gonna say it again,” he orders, reaching back to steady Harry’s cock as he sinks down.  His breath hitches in his throat as he’s filled, and a string of mumbled curses spill from his mouth when he’s seated.  After a few, short moments, Eggsy drapes his arms around Harry’s shoulders and winks.  “You’ve already ruined me, mate.  So you might as well get the most out of it and fuck me, yeah?”

Harry responds with a minute thrust of his hips, his hands reaching out to clutch at Eggsy’s hips as he presses into him.  “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed,” Harry deadpans, “but I’m not in much of a position to be fucking you.”

Eggsy rolls his eyes but grinds down on Harry’s lap in a dirty circle that reminds him of the dance he did at the club.  He loves the way Harry’s face falls blank at the stimulation, and picks up the pace once he’s adjusted to having Harry inside him.  “Then I guess I’m gonna have to do all the work, yeah?” he teases.

Harry’s hands grip Eggsy’s hips, his fingertips digging into supple flesh, and Eggsy just knows that he’ll have ten, perfect bruises smattered across his skin in the morning.  It’s enough to make Eggsy’s cock dribble more precome, the thought that fucking Harry in real life is similar to how he’d imagined it.  Then, Harry’s grip on his hips changes, and Harry is both keeping him steady and manhandling him into a new position and _oh_.  Harry’s found the perfect angle to press against Eggsy’s prostate with every thrust, and Eggsy has to amend his earlier thought.  Fucking Harry in real life is so much better than anything he ever came up with in his fantasies.

“Fuck, Harry,” Eggsy pants, his hands clenching tight on Harry’s shoulders.  They’re rocking into each other as hard and deep as they can.  It’s a beautiful kind of pleasure that’s just on the side of not enough.  Frustrated, Eggsy stills in Harry’s lap and whines, high and needy, into Harry’s flushed, sweat-slick skin.

“Is everything okay, darling?” Harry asks, running his hands up Eggsy’s ribs.  He marvels, for a short moment, at how Eggsy’s body works to heave air in and out, as if his lungs can’t get enough oxygen into his blood.

“I’m so close,” Eggsy replies, rocking his hips back and forth.  “I need more.”

With gentle hands and a determined smile, Harry guides Eggsy off of his lap to settle in the bed next to him.  “What type of more?” he asks.

Eggsy wets his lips and looks up at Harry from under his eyelashes.  “Deeper,” he replies, rising up to his hands and knees, his arse up in the air.  “Harder.”

Harry can only stare as Eggsy lowers his chest to the bed, his fingers twisting into the sheets on either side of his head.  

“Do you think you can do that?” Eggsy continues, arching his back just that much more.  “Think you can fuck me like I need?”

In lieu of an answer, Harry rises from the bed and rounds the corner so that he’s standing behind Eggsy.  His hands reach out and curl around Eggsy’s hips again.  He pauses for a moment, feels Eggsy start to relax into his touch, and then pulls him back, groaning when they’re pressed up again.

“Harry, whatrya-”

“Do you trust me, Eggsy?” Harry interrupts, rubbing a hand gently down Eggsy’s spine.

Eggsy’s breathes in silence for a handful of seconds.  Then, he nods once, decisively.  

“Then be a good boy,” Harry growls, pressing his cock back inside, “and don’t move.”  

Underneath him, Eggsy whimpers and does his best to hold still.  It’s only the quivering of his perfect, golden thighs that give away how close he is to losing control of his body.  Harry lightly trails his fingertips up and down Eggsy’s spine until he feels his lover grow impatient beneath him.  Eggsy still doesn’t move, but it’s a close thing.  

Harry waits a handful of breaths more, then his hands are anchoring themselves on whatever part of Eggsy he can hold for leverage, and he’s pulling back deliciously slow.  “You’re still so tight around me,” Harry comments, “You feel incredible.”

Eggsy just whines Harry’s name and presses his hips back in a futile attempt to draw Harry’s cock back inside him.  He stops and jolts forward when one of Harry’s hands cracks against the swell of his arse.  “Wha?” he breathes, looking imploringly over his shoulder at Harry.

“Be still for me,” Harry says, rubbing out the sting with his palm.  “And you’ll get what you wanted.”

With an indignant huff, Eggsy pillows his hands under his head and settles again.  “Yes, Sir,” he teases.  

Behind him, Harry growls and thrusts deep in a slow smooth glide.  “Is this any better?” he asks, grinding as deeply into Eggsy as he can.  “Or do you still need more?”

“More,” Eggsy replies instantly, his words heating the sheets beneath his mouth.  “Harder, Harry.  Please?”

Harry pulls back a bit, squeezes his hands around Eggsy’s waist, and thrusts back hard and deep and fast.  

Eggsy keens as his hands fly out to grapple for purchase once more in the sheets.  “Do that again,” he mumbles.

Chuckling, Harry pulls back just as slowly as before before hammering back in.  “Like this?” he asks.

“Yesss,” Eggsy hisses, his eyes squeezing shut.  “Just like that.”

Harry easily falls into the new pace with a grin.  He can tell, from the way that Eggsy is clenching around him, that he’s mercilessly massaging Eggsy’s prostate.  He can also tell, from the way that Eggsy is quickly becoming incoherent, that he loves it.  

Eggsy doesn’t know how long Harry pounds into him like that; he’s pretty sure his brain has melted out his ears after the first few seconds.  It feels like his cock has never been harder, and he’s pretty sure he’s making a right mess of Harry’s ridiculously soft sheets.  Pleasure blooms hot under his skin, and winds up and up and up until he’s not sure he can take it anymore.  “Harry,” he pleads, squeezing his eyes shut.  “I’m so close.”

“Then come,” Harry says, his voice firm in a way that warrants no arguments.  “Come for me, my dear boy.”

Like before, Eggsy’s lungs are working hard to draw in enough air for him.  His whole body tightens with need as he hovers on the precipice.  He hovers there for what feels like an eternity, desperate noises leaking from his mouth.  As if he sensed his need, Harry crowds in close, tightens his grip on Eggsy, and fucks into him as hard and deep and fast as he can.  

“I thought I told you to come,” Harry grunts.  “When I tell you to come, you are to come, Eggsy.”

“S-sorry!” Eggsy whines, the word getting caught up in a moan.  

“Don’t apologize,” Harry orders, slapping over Eggsy’s arse again.  “Just come.”

With one more choked off moan, Eggsy obeys.  A few thrusts later, Harry follows suit and slumps over Eggsy’s back.

After a moment, Harry pulls out, ties off the condom, and pads into the bathroom to dispose of it.  When he returns, he’s cleaned up and holding a damp flannel for Eggsy.

Weakly, Eggsy takes it from him, carelessly wipes himself down, and throws it in the general direction of the bathroom.  He doesn’t quite make it, but before he can haul himself up to go tidy it up, Harry settles in the bed beside him.  

They bask in the quiet for a while, content to lazily let hands drift over bodies, and lips to press silent words of admiration into flesh.  Harry is half asleep when Eggsy rumbles with laughter in his arms.  “Is everything okay, darling?” he asks.

“Yeah,” he replies, linking his fingers together with Harry’s.  “I just remembered; I need to write Dylan a thank you note.”

“Dylan?” Harry asks, his voice quiet.

Eggsy nods.  “One of the dancers at the club we was at.  He’s the one that made me realise that you wanted me.”

Beside him, the edges of Harry’s lips curl up as he draws Eggsy further into his arms.  “In that case, I ought to send him flowers,” Harry says.  “Perhaps even a pastry basket.”

Eggsy laughs and swats at his lover.  “Don’t you dare,” he scolds.

Harry’s drops a kiss on the top of Eggsy’s head.  “Oh, my dear boy,” he murmurs.  “We shall see.”

A week later, Eggsy’s lounging in Harry’s office while he takes care of some paperwork when his phone lights up with a message and a picture attachment from an unknown number.  The message is simple, just the words “You’re Welcome” paired with a string of winking emojis.  Eggsy is confused for a moment before the picture loads, and he sees Dylan, dressed in casual clothes, proudly holding a basket filled with… pastries.  Yup, those are definitely pastries.  

“Harry,” he whines, looking up from his phone.  “You didn’t.”

Harry grins slightly and continues, unfettered, with his paperwork.  “Oh my dear boy,” he murmurs, scribbling his signature at the bottom of a form.  “I most certainly did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to finish this. An unexpected plot twist threw a wrench in my plans, and really stumped me. I hope that the wait was worth it!


End file.
